


waking up is hard to do

by Sparrows



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, and just a little sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrows/pseuds/Sparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet, sleepy morning is rudely interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waking up is hard to do

Cullen wakes with the sun. It's an old habit, one etched into his bones by his time as a templar, but one he's unwilling to get rid of any time soon. He had always been the first to rise, to set about the duties of the day, and this doesn’t change just because he’s part of the Inquisition now. If anything, it’s become more important than ever, simply because of how much responsibility now weighs upon his shoulders.

Nowadays, though, the simple matter of waking up in the morning is made complicated. Namely it’s made complicated by the way Elizabeth curls against him in the night, her head pillowed against his collarbone, breath fluttering soft against his chest. The skin-to-skin contact is intensely comforting in a very real, very solid kind of way.

He considers waking her; he’s expecting several reports and should really be in his office as soon as possible. Decides against it when she makes a small noise in her sleep and shifts, fingers curling lightly against the other side of his chest, down near his ribs.

“Don’t go,” she mumbles against his skin, and Cullen starts, glancing down. Her eyes are barely open, a thin streak of green and blue visible between her lashes.

“I didn’t realise you were already awake,” he murmurs, arms tightening around her, palm pressed to the warm skin at the small of her back. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Elizabeth makes an incoherent noise - Cullen’s not sure if it’s a _yes_ or a _no_ answer and it’s far too early to ask - and loops her arm up around his shoulder. When Cullen lifts his head a little she slides her forearm beneath his neck. The motion means she ends up draped further across him, her chest against his, her face cradled in the spot between his neck and shoulder. He can feel the faint twitch of her smile against his skin.

_We don’t get mornings like this often_ , Cullen thinks, and it’s not until Elizabeth hums in agreement, lazily kissing the stubbled column of his throat, that he realises he spoke aloud. That happens, sometimes, when he’s around her; what’s in his head doesn’t always stay there. He’s about to continue that line of thinking - that perhaps they should have _more_ mornings like this, just the two of them, away from the pressures the world will place upon them the moment they walk outside - but he’s interrupted by a harsh _tap_.

_Tap tap._

_Tap tap tap._

Cullen groans when he spots the bird. It’s one of Leliana’s messenger rooks, because of course the missive he’s waited three days for would arrive _now_ of all times. It’s perched outside the door leading out to the balcony, the rising sun gilding black and crimson feathers in a fine layer of gold and Maker’s breath _it is still tapping_.

“How does it even know I sleep up here now?” he grumbles, going to push himself up from the bed. Elizabeth presses him back down and kisses him again, more insistently and yet still just as lazily as before.

Cullen sighs. “I can’t put it off forever.”

“Mm. Bet you _could_.”

“Bet I couldn’t.”

When the bird begins to squawk a few seconds later, that’s when Elizabeth relents and rolls off of him, an implicit agreement that the day should probably begin soon. She drags the blankets with her, runs a hand through her hair, and Cullen is content to watch a moment before he sits up himself.

The bird quiets down, apparently intelligent enough not only to know Cullen has stopped sleeping in his office most nights, but also to recognise when it’s about to be tended to. Cullen grabs his coat from the floor next to the bed and sloppily holds it around his waist like an obscenely-fluffy towel, padding across to the door and sliding it open enough so that he can retrieve the bird’s message.

He doesn’t read it there and then, of course. They decided on that rule early on; any messages brought to her quarters, for either of them, are to be left for another time. They’re busy enough, Inquisitor and Commander respectively, that their outside duties need to be left at the door for their own mental health if nothing else.

“Any plans for the day?” Cullen asks mildly as he dresses. He means, of course, ‘are you leaving again’. He always means that.

Elizabeth shrugs from her perch at the edge of her desk, busy with the buttons of her blouse. It’s not the blue floral one she spends most of her time at Skyhold in, but instead a sturdier, more practical fabric. That... well, that answers the question, at least.

All too soon they are both dressed, Cullen in his armour and Elizabeth in her sweeping bearhide coat, and the day lies ahead of them - one more beast to be conquered. But they have not yet left behind the sleepy peace of the still-unmade bed, and Cullen can’t resist stealing another kiss from her, cupping her face in his hands.

“Stay safe out there,” he whispers against her mouth before closing that gap once more, briefly. “Please.” There’s so much that he leaves unspoken, lying behind that quiet plea, and Elizabeth closes her eyes instead of replying. Cullen’s hands still curve along the line of her jaw, his thumbs gliding over her cheeks.

“I promise,” she says softly, leaning into his touch. They both know that someday she might break that promise - Haven showed them that already - but she says it every morning nevertheless, and he will always ask it of her, for his own peace of mind if nothing else.

The day will not wait any longer for them, and with a sigh they let go of each other, Cullen’s hands lingering a moment longer on Elizabeth’s hips. They have their duties to face, whatever that might mean today.

That doesn’t mean they must be faced alone.


End file.
